


Reality Check

by lisa_tid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Derek Has Issues, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, Handcuffs, Knotting, M/M, Mates and all that, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Violence, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Rutting, Self-Lubrication, The alpha goes into rut if their omega goes into heat, discussions of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-22 20:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2520923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisa_tid/pseuds/lisa_tid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek are about to spend a heat together for the first time, and Derek is seriously freaking out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality Check

Derek has brought home thai after work, and they’re at his place – as usual; Stiles shares with Scott and their apartment is tiny and littered with junk. It also contains Scott, most of the time, which is a big reason Derek very much prefers being here. No matter how many times Stiles has groaned over Scott writing love poetry to Allison (who is in New York, studying), it still nags on Derek that Stiles is sharing space with another alpha. Not that he’d say so, but he doesn’t really think he’s fooling anyone. 

Stiles is happily munching away and they’re sitting in silence on the couch. Derek is about to help himself to seconds, the food containers left sitting on the counter, when Stiles clears his throat (and really, Derek should’ve known something was up by Stiles’ silence). There’s a slight uptick in his heartbeat as he says, casually, “My heat is next month.”

Derek freezes, and Stiles notices immediately of course.

“If you don’t want to – just say so. I have a dozen dildos in the box underneath my bed,” Stiles says, and grins, but there’s no spark in his eyes. “I mean, I know we’ve only been together a few months. It’s pretty soon, I guess.”

The moment Derek scented Stiles at Starbucks he’d _known_ , long before he spotted the short hair, and wide gestures. The perk and curse of being a werewolf. They are compatible, if he’s around when Stiles goes into heat… and Derek can already imagine it. Stiles on his knees, back arched and slick smearing his ass and thighs. But if Derek is there… a rutting beast atop Stiles, a beast snarling and digging claws into soft, pale skin. Stiles, eyes glazed and limbs loose or worse; scrambling to get away, and Derek sinking fangs into his shoulder to keep him in place. 

There was no doubt; Derek will go into rut if he was close by when Stiles heat started. But there is hurt in Stiles’ tensed jaw line and Derek finds himself nodding. “No. I mean yes, I want to.” 

He will think of something. Some way to be far, far away a month from now.

 

***** 

 

As the days pass, the excuses in Derek’s head become ridiculous. From his grandma dying, to his family’s house burning down, to a poisonous spider biting Laura. He has finally, hesitatingly decided on his grandma dying, despite the risk of Stiles finding out she passed years ago. Since Stiles talks to Derek’s mother every week (more often than Derek does), that risk is high. 

So he is very much still working on the details when he comes home one day to a delicious scent. 

A big smile splits Stiles’ face when Derek enters. 

“You’re home early.” He tilts his face up for a kiss, and Derek automatically bends to give it to him. The TV is on, a game frozen on the screen. When Derek gave Stiles a key to his apartment, Stiles brought the x-box here; claiming he only needed his PS3 back home.

“You…” Derek sniffs again. 

“Yeah, my heat’s starting early. I’ve never been completely regular,” Stiles says. “You better call in at work, letting them know you’ll be out of commission until Thursday or so.”

“Thursday?” Derek hears himself repeat, but his mind has become blank, heart pounding in his ears. 

“Well, you know,” Stiles presses play on the console and the screen moves, “it takes a day or so before the full heat hits. I’m just a bit itchy at the moment, so I’m thinking Sunday or Monday. Or do you have something way important at work next week?”

“No.” Derek says automatically, because he doesn’t. Sunday. The day after tomorrow. Derek pulls out his mobile, texting Erica to let her know he won’t be in. 

With the text is sent off, his legs walk him into the kitchen.

“You hungry?” he calls, opening the fridge and looking at its meager contents. Because that’s what he always does when he comes home from work, no matter if Stiles is here or not. 

Derek needs to stock up on food for the heat. Even if he won’t be here, Stiles probably will be, it’ll be comforting for him to be surrounded by Derek’s scent. Something heavy and bitter tasting settles in his stomach at the thought of Stiles here alone. He knows, _knows_ , it’s just instincts. Sure, the scent of an unmated omega in heat may make an unmated alpha really horny, but they don’t lose their mind unless they go into rut. However, he cannot help thinking about some strange, snarling alpha banging down the door. After _his_ Stiles, looming over him, pushing him down… 

“Derek? You alright?”

A hand on the shoulder snaps Derek out of his thoughts and he turns to Stiles, who’s wearing a worried look. 

“Yes. Fine.”

“You were growling, man, what were you thinking about?” 

The hand is still on Derek’s shoulder; but it’s stroking now, down his arm. He doesn’t want to answer the question; that would be admitting to being one of those possessive alphas he knows Stiles hates. 

“I…” Derek looks into the open fridge again. “You hungry?”

“I already said yes,” Stiles says, looking into the fridge too. “I’m thinking we should order in. I’ll go shopping tomorrow morn-“

“No!” Derek snarls, slamming the fridge shut so hard it rattles. Immediately he has to close his eyes and just breathe. 

“Hey, hey,” Stiles says, crowding in close ad tugging Derek’s head down; pressing it into the crook of Stiles’ neck. The scent there isn’t as calming as usual, but it’s enough. Stiles rests one hand at the back of Derek’s head.

“Okay?” Stiles asks, after a minute.

“Yeah.” 

Forcing himself to raise his head, Derek sees Stiles grinning. A big, wide happy grin.

“What?” Derek asks. 

“You – already responding to my heat-“ 

Derek’s stomach plummets; already responding… if he’s growling and snarling now, what will he be like by Monday? 

Meanwhile, Stile has kept on talking and Derek is surprised to see him looking down, avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“…worried, you know? You and me are you and me, but I thought maybe you weren’t-“

“You thought we weren’t compatible?” Derek breaks him off, frowning.

Stiles glances up at Derek, lips pressing together briefly. “I don’t know. I just wasn’t sure, I guess. I mean, if this,” He gestures between the two of them, ”is for fun or more.”  
And god, Derek knows his communication skills needs work but – 

“Stiles, I gave you a key to my place. For all the time you spend here we might as well be living together. I agreed to spend a heat with you. Of course, this is more than fun.”

“I’m being silly, I know.” But the way his shoulders slump in relief makes Derek pull him in tight again.

Hours later, lying nestled together in bed, Derek listens to Stiles’ steady heartbeat and thinks he’s fallen asleep. With every breath Derek can taste the beginning of heat.  
“I’m really happy we’re doing this,” Stiles says quietly, and Derek almost startles. He can’t say anything, can only pull Stiles’ closer in the curve of his body. It seems to be enough for Stiles, because he sighs softly and now really appears to be on the edge of slumber. 

Derek lays awake for a long time.

*****

Stiles keeps sleeping throughout most of the weekend. They end up going shopping together, stocking up on fruit, protein bars, bread and some frozen ready meals. Mostly though, Stiles just seems tired; he’s switches between watching TV and napping in bed. When Derek asks, Stiles says it’s normal for him and it’ll pass when he goes into full heat. “Preserving my energy and all that,” he says with a wink.

Derek, on the other hand, works out until sweat is dripping down his neck and then keeps going. After a shower, he paces the apartment while Stiles rolls his eyes at him from the sofa. Before the full moon Derek is on the edge, and this is a little bit like that; he feels restless. On the edge. He tries to go for a run but ends up back home less than fifteen minutes later.

As the hours pass, the less can he imagine leaving. The thick scent of Stiles is all around him. On top of that, he remembers Stiles’ vulnerable expression Friday night. Can just imagine what he’d think if he woke up and Derek was… gone. Derek does come up with a second idea.

On Sunday evening, Stiles perks up and stuffs himself full of sandwiches before falling into bed. Derek must’ve fallen asleep, too, because when he wakes up, a smiling Stiles is sitting on top of him.

Wide awake suddenly, Derek glances at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock. 05:23. 

“Derek…” Stiles sing-songs, moving his hips and getting slick on Derek’s thighs. Stiles is a little flushed, high on his cheekbones and chest, and Derek _wants_. Of their own accord, his hands move; stroking down Stiles’ chest and flat stomach. 

“How are you doing?” Derek asks, voice rough.

“Horny,” Stiles says. “Want you.” 

That said, Stiles raises himself and just… sinks right onto Derek’s cock. Derek is flipping them over before he has time to think, and Stiles gives a breathless laugh. It’s cut off by a moan when Derek starts to move. 

“Feels so good, I love your dick,” Stiles says, and normally Derek would snort or chuckle at a comment like that; it’s so Stiles. But Stiles eyes are already half closed in pleasure and he is _beautiful_. Derek crowds in closer, resting on his forearms with his face close to Stiles’. There is something he’s supposed to remember, but it truly can’t be that important. He just keeps rolling his hips and listening to Stiles’ soft sounds of bliss. 

Long minutes passes like that, no urgency, until Stiles tugs gently at Derek’s hair; making him open his eyes. 

“No knotting,” Stiles says, and Derek can’t help it; he lets out a whine of disappointment and thrusts harder, as if he can make Stiles change his mind that way. The knot is already forming; tugging at the rim when he pulls back.

Stiles moans, nails digging into Derek’s shoulders briefly before Stiles puts them over his head, holding onto the sheets. 

“Alright, alright you can – no,” Stiles shakes his head, even as he moans again, “no knotting. Food, man, food. I’m so hungry. And…“ 

The first knotting will last for at least half an hour. It makes sense, no matter that Derek doesn’t want it too. He only trusts himself for another minute before pulling out, pushing three fingers inside Stiles’ clenching heat instead. With his free hand, he jerks himself and Stiles does the same. It’s not long before they’ve both made a mess on Stiles’ belly. Without any pressure, the knot doesn’t swell. 

“This is gonna be so much better with company, I can already tell,” Stiles smiles lazily, sprawling out like a starfish on the rumpled sheets. 

Sitting back on his heels, Derek rests a hand on Stiles’ knees. He hadn’t completely lost himself; had been able to respond to Stiles and listen – but what would happen in a day? Most omegas reached the crest of their heat on day three or four. 

“I’ll make sandwiches while you wash up,” Derek says. “Or do you want cereal?”

“Cheerios, please,” Stiles says, still smiling. “You are so good to me.”

Making a bowl of cereal is hardly a great effort, but the comment still makes Derek feel warm inside. He brings a pair of sweats with him into the bathroom and quickly washes off sweat and slick and semen, before heading into the kitchen. As he pokes around in the cupboard after the cereal, he hears the shower turn on.

Quickly, he hurries back to the bedroom and soundlessly opens his half of the closet. At the back, behind shoes and a bag of old clothes he’s meaning to give away, is a box.  
Five minutes later, Stiles stumbles into the kitchen with his usual lack of grace and smelling of heat and soap. Derek is already halfway through his oatmeal, and has set out a second bowl along with milk and cheerios. Stiles fills the bowl to the brim and digs in, milk dripping down his chin.

As soon as Derek finishes he finds himself pacing again. He hovers over Stiles or a moment – realizing what he is doing only when the omega looks up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Dude, you’re in my space.” It’s said with a grin, but Derek backs off right away. He checks the locks on the door before heading back into the kitchen to watch Stiles drink the last of the sweet milk from the bowl. 

“I’m done,” Stiles says. “Wanna watch Ironman 2?”

Derek just nods; he’s half hard in his pants, but strangely doesn’t feel much urgency. At the moment he is content to curl up with Stiles on the sofa and listen to his comments. The sweet scent of Stiles grows stronger throughout the movie, and near the end he abruptly flicks it off. 

“It’s coming on quicker than usual,” Stiles says, standing and grabbing Derek’s hand. “Normally it wouldn’t be this bad until tonight.” 

“Yeah?”

“Must be ‘cause you’re here. I can feel it, right here.” He places a hand beneath his navel, even as he walks down the short hall. “It’s like a warmth like, like-“  
Stiles freezes in the doorway to the bedroom.

“What’s those?” he asks, staring at the bed. “Man, I’m up to trying that kind of thing, really, but during heat I feel kind of put out there, you know. I don’t really want to be restrained.” He gives a very forced sounding chuckle. 

“Fuck. You think I’d…” Derek says, closing his eyes briefly. “They’re for me. Not you.” 

“For you?” Stiles lets go off Derek’s hand and walks over to the bed, picking up the magical handcuffs, designed to hold supernatural beings, which are resting there innocently. 

“Why?” 

Derek can’t look at him, doesn’t even want to taste the sweetness of him in the air. “I want you to be safe.”

“Yes…? I’m very much for me being safe too, and I’ve never felt safer than with you.”

He says it so easily, like it was a certainty, and Derek is choking on nothing; thinking about bruises and soft, pale skin. 

“Derek?” Stiles drops the handcuffs. 

Derek counts to fifteen of Stiles heartbeats before he manages to answer, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What?” Stiles frowns, “Why would you?”

“I already feel… urges. That you’re mine. I want to… beat up anyone who comes in here to take you away. It’s becoming worse.” Derek turns away, clenches his hands into fist, because even now he’s scenting the air for other alphas. Half expecting someone to burst through the door and grab Stiles. 

“Derek, you do know what happens when you go into rut, right?” Stiles asks, and Derek nods once, sharply – of course he knows. “Right. You won’t hurt me.” 

“You can’t know that. What if I lose my head?” 

Stiles actually laughs at that, “You will, undoubtedly. I figure going into rut is kind of like going into heat, and I still have _some_ common sense no matter if I’m in full heat. Sure, I may not be as reasonable as on a good day, but I sure as hell understand words like ‘yes’ and ‘no’.

“If you tell me, right now, you feel a compulsion to hit or claw at me or some other violent crap, then I’m so out of here right now. Excluding a rough fucking or two at some point of course, that’s more than fine.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” For once, the words just tumbles out. That he doesn’t want to doesn’t mean he won’t though. Their size differences aside, there’s also the werewolf factor. If all he’s focusing on is taking Stiles…

“Of course not,” Stiles says, smiling a little again. He sinks down on the bed with a small sigh, pushing the handcuffs onto the floor. “You’re just a control freak.” 

But when Stiles looks up there is a light in his eyes and a smile on his face, and well, Derek knows that. That he’s a control freak. He hesitates a moment before sitting next to Stiles, who immediately places a hand on his knee. 

“I _knew_ something was off,” Stiles says, gaze far away now and Derek recognizes this; it’s Stiles sorting his thoughts, speaking aloud. “I am so, so happy it isn’t…”  
He trails off, but Derek easily finishes the sentence and it makes his heart ache a little as he remembers Stiles asking him to spend this heat together. 

“Misscommunication is our forte, huh?” Stiles says, chuckling. 

“Maybe just a bit.” Derek smiles back a little. 

They’re silent and the wheels in Stiles’ rapt mind are turning, Derek can almost see it. He’s feeling restless again, wants to go check if the door is still locked and all the windows shut. Wants to touch Stiles, cover him in their scents. Instead, he just focuses on breathing as he waits. 

“Listen,” Stiles says, “I have no doubt that you’re going to stop if I say no. Or hit you over the head. I also seriously doubt you’re gonna want to. Wait-“ he shushes Derek, who has opened his mouth, “If the only way you can be comfortable is if I handcuff you to the bed, then we’ll do it that way. And next time I’m sure we won’t need them.”

 _Next time_ is said with a flicker of a glance at Derek, a tick in the muscles along Stiles jaw as if he’s afraid of protests – still. Derek touches that twitching spot, gently, and it relaxes. He feels torn. He believes in Stiles, he does, but he is not so sure he believes in himself. These urges he’s experienced already… 

“Maybe… maybe you can ride me,” Derek says, knowing it won’t make a difference if he wants to turn the tables, but the position might remind him.

“Sure, as long as we knot from behind,” Stiles says.

And Derek very much agrees with that. Waiting for his knot to go down is most comfortable if they’re spooning. 

Derek hasn’t lost his erection during this talk, which kind certainly would have dulled his arousal during normal circumstances. When Stiles kisses him, he kisses back – gently, at first, but it swiftly turns eager. Derek can’t help himself. 

After a minute or so, Stiles pulls back and rises to push down his sweats and Derek follows suit before lying on the bed. Stiles climbs on top, his hands all over Derek’s chest. Derek can’t resist cupping Stiles’ ass, relishing in the moan the omega emits. 

Squeezing him, dipping his fingers in between the cheeks to touch the wetness there, Derek picture Stiles on his knees. He’s always had a thing for watching himself disappear inside, kissing along the long line of Stiles’ back, covering him chest-to-back and hold him fast.

He is halfway to rolling them over before he catches himself and instead forces himself to sink into the bedding.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Stiles says. “I don’t really feel like foreplay right now.” 

He rises onto his knees and fumbles to grab hold of Derek’s cock, taking him inside easily.

“That’s so, so good,” Stiles mumbles, eyes closed and speaking almost to himself, it seems, but then he opens his eyes and looks down at Derek. Derek’s breath sticks in his throat and Stiles starts to move with a single minded purpose. More of a rocking motion than anything, mimicking how they move when Derek is knotting him. It isn’t long before Derek feels himself start to swell, and he bends his knees so he can thrust upwards. He clutches at Stiles’ hips to drag him down to meet him. 

“You…?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods tightly.

Stiles thighs are trembling a little as he gets off and lays on his side, his back to Derek. Another dozen thrusts inside that sweet slickness before Derek is too big to do anything but return to that rocking motion, and he reaches around only to find Stiles’ hand already pulling at his own cock. 

It doesn’t take long before Stiles groans and his muscles lock down on Derek. Despite knowing that Stiles is becoming oversensitive, Derek can’t stop moving against him. 

“Come on, Derek,” Stiles says, reaching back awkwardly to stroke along his side, “You feel so good in me.”

Pushing Stiles onto his front, Derek follows, pulling one of his ass cheeks to the side – even knowing he can’t go deeper. He’s panting now, needing just a little bit more…  
He finally stills when the knot swells up completely and climax takes him. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck, mouthing at the soft skin there but not biting down despite the itch in his fangs.

“This is _so_ much better with company,” Stiles mutters into the pillow, eyes half closed. He is completely lax beneath Derek, halfway to sleep again. Gently he rolls them onto their sides again, gripping Stiles hip with one hand and sliding the other arm under his chest to keep them pressed together. Sweat is sticking between them, but he couldn’t care less.

“What’s it like?” Derek asks. He can’t stop touching Stiles, just stroking down his side and chest. 

“What’s what like?” 

Stiles eyes are completely closed now, he sounds so content. Derek breaths in the scent of Stiles’ heat, but his own pheromones are just as strong in the air not and it settles something inside him. 

“Never mind.”

“No, no, I’ll answer any question you want,” Stiles says, sounding more awake now. “Well, almost. There are some embarrassing stories I’d rather not share. And Scott’s secrets, bro-code, you know:” 

“When you’re alone, like this, what’s it like?”

“Oh.” A beat. “During the worst of it I’m just really, really horny and longing for dick, of course.” Derek snorts out a laugh, and he can hear the answering smile in Stiles’ voice as he continues; “Yeah, I’m pretty attached to my dildos then. At the start and end though… I’m tired and hungry, and well, horny too, but it’s different… more itchy and irritating.” 

He’s silent for a moment again, “It’s a bit more intense already, with you here,” he says. “Better.”

Derek kisses his shoulder, and listens as his breathing settles into sleep.

*****

The day passes slowly as Stiles’ heat progresses. His whole being is screaming “mate me” and Derek is in a constant state of arousal. He’s crowding Stiles again, hovering over him whether he eats or rests, even outside the bathroom. Can’t think of anything else, and he touches as much as he can get away with. Stiles is surprisingly patient but now and then he becomes annoyed, and the stronger the scent of his pheromones grows the less actual words he uses.

They have sex once more, but Derek truly realizes what Stiles meant with ‘itchy and irritated’.

In the late afternoon Stiles is lying on the bed, eyes closed and he growls at Derek when he pets him. Derek pulls his hand back immediately, though he stays close. He desperately wants to take Stiles again, has caught himself rubbing the straining material of his sweats a dozen times the last couple of hours since they last fucked. Since then Stiles has been asleep though, and his scent has intensified so much. So very tempting. 

Derek lies down next to Stiles, sliding as close as he dares and tries to relax. He falls into a restless doze; hyper aware of Stiles slightest move or sigh. _Finally_ Stiles moves closer, rubs his body along the length of Derek’s in a blatant invitation. 

“Yes?” Derek manages to get out.

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

Derek scrambles to get out of his sweats and then falls upon Stiles. The omega is still naked, and Derek eagerly pushes him onto his front. He nuzzles into his neck first, no matter that Derek is close to shaking with eagerness. Carefully, he settles his weight on top; feels the body beneath him arch up. His dick slides in between Stiles’ cheeks, feels all the slickness dripping out and they echo each other’s moans. 

Abruptly, Stiles starts to scramble under Derek, who immediately growls and bites into his neck. Stiles body turns to butter against the sheets, and Derek releases him; licking at the mark he left.

“Derek… knees,” Stiles rasps out.

It takes an embarrassing long moment before Derek grasps what his omega wants, and still he can’t bring himself to back off. Some part of him knows he should be worried by this, but it really can’t be important. Not with this right here. He slides a hand between the mattress and Stiles hips, pulls him back and up while keeping them pressed together.  
Stiles pushes up on his hands too. Derek’s hips can’t stop rocking, and his leaking cock slides over Stiles’ ass and thighs. Finally, he straightens up, keeping one hand firmly in the small of Stiles’ back. With the other, he gets his cock right against the open, swollen hole. For the first inch he watches himself disappear, then he can’t stop himself and slams the rest of the way inside. Doesn’t pause. Just starts pounding.

With that first moment, Stiles rocks violently and slides over the sheets before dropping onto his elbows. Derek can’t focus on anything but Stiles beneath him, the tight, hot clenching of him. There’s no finesse, no steady rhythm, just a rough, harsh race towards climax. 

It’s only a minute before Derek’s ready to knot, and when Stiles shouts and his muscles start contracting Derek moves fully inside and stays. The squeezing triggers the knot to swell faster, before they lock around it. Bending low again, Derek presses his chest against that smooth back as he comes. 

It’s blinding white pleasure for the first few spurts and he moans into Stiles’ skin. After that it softens, gentles, and Derek realizes Stiles is shaking.

Derek tenses, “Stiles?”

“I’m fine, just… can you turn us?”

They have that down to an art form, and Derek gets them on their sides swiftly enough.

“Are you hurt? Stiles?” There are bruises, fingerprints on Stiles’ hips and Derek is staring right at the bite mark he left on Stiles’ neck. It’s not bleeding, but clearly bruising. He lets out a soft, whining sound before he can help himself and doesn't dare press as close as he normally would. 

“I’m not hurt.” Stiles curls back into Derek. 

“You’re shivering.” 

“Just… intense. I get like this, sometimes, after. When I’m in heat. Just gimme a minute.”

Gently, Derek strokes the mark he left. Reaches down to touch where they’re joined. Stiles’ rim is stretched tight, of course, and there are streaks of slick over Derek’s upper thighs and lower abdomen. He wonders if Stiles will wince every time he sits down over the next week. If he’ll hurt the next time Derek pushes inside him. It probably won’t be long. 

“Derek,” Stiles murmured, and he sounds tired again, “You've left bruises on me before. I feel great, riding high on endorphin here.”

“I know,” Derek says, “It’s different.”

Not in control. Rougher, too demanding, too close to the wolf. As he thinks about it though, he remembers himself staying away as long as Stiles asked him to. Not mounting him before given permission, but still…

“Quit worrying,” Stiles says. “It felt really good, way better than the blue dildo.” 

The toy referred to is a large one with an inflatable knot, and Derek growls, “I sure as hell hope so.” 

Stiles laughs, “Oh god, I can’t believe how jealous you are of a toy.” 

“I am not jealous.” 

“Whatever you say, honey.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Whatever. As I said, I’m too high on endorphin right now to worry about it. This feels really great.” 

The knot starts to go down after about twenty minutes, and Stiles starts squirming against him. 

“I want it again,” Stiles say. “Can you? Again?” 

The movement already has Derek moaning softly again, and he nods against Stiles shoulder. He pushes him onto his front and follows. 

“Am I too heavy?” Derek asks, even as he braces his weight on his elbows and slides his knees between Stiles’. “Do you want to be on top?”

“No, no! I like this, you on me. Slow this time, alright? I’m getting a bit sore.”

“Yes, yes, whatever you want.” _I’ll take care of you_ , he wants to say, thinks of Stiles moving awkwardly for some days to come. But then imagines drawing him a bath, cooking his favorite pasta and watching that stupid series he’s been nagging Derek they should see together. Pamper him, like a proper alpha does to their omega after heat. 

The need doesn’t feel as urgent this time; it’s more of a gentle simmer. They take their time.

*****

When Derek wakes up, he’s spooning a still sleeping Stiles. The scent of sex and the two of them hangs heavily in the air, and the sheets are stiff in patches of dry come. 04:12, the alarm clock says. He breathes in deeply again, nuzzling Stiles. Fresh sweat is slicking between them, it is much too warm in the room.

Sighing, Derek carefully pulls back and goes over to open the window ajar. He feels so much calmer now. And hungry, he really didn’t eat much yesterday.

First, he heads into the bathroom to relieve himself and shower. He ponders getting a wash cloth to get some of that dry come of Stiles, it really can’t be comfortable, but when he hears a soft snore a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. No, Stiles can sleep well through anything.

Derek grabs a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, and pops an instant lasagna into the microwave. He chugs half a water bottle while waiting for the food, and when the microwave dings eats it right from the box. It tastes a little odd, chemical, like fast food always does. Still, he’s so hungry right now he wolfs it down with an apple and a protein bar.

Back in the bedroom, he places the second water on the nightstand and lies down with a book. He managed to stop himself from checking if the door was locked, but he can’t settle in the living room. After about forty-five minutes Stiles turns over onto his side, one arm reaching out into the empty space between them.

“Derek?” he mutters, not opening his eyes.

“Hey,” Derek says, taking Stiles’ hand. 

Stiles opens one bleary eye, clearly not fully awake yet.

“We _so_ need to change these sheets,” he says. “Food would be good. And water. Lots of water. Soap too.”

Derek puts the book to the side and holds out the water. That makes Stiles open both eyes and actually sit up a bit.

“Man, you’re a gift from God, seriously,” he says, opening it. Derek watches his Adam’s apple bob as he drinks and drinks. When the bottle is empty, Stiles just drops it over the bed’s edge and flops back down with a soft groan.

“You okay?” Derek asks. 

“Sore,” Stiles says. “So worth it. I think the worst of it has passed, obviously.”

He sits up and swings his legs over the bed’s edge, wincing a little.

“How many times did we fuck last night?” Stiles asks, laughing a little as he slowly stands. 

Derek wants to give him a hand, but today it’s easier to restrain these impulses to hover. 

The question is most likely rhetorical, but Derek answers anyway. “Four or five times? I think.”

“Sounds about right,” Stiles throws a smile over his shoulder, starting for the bathroom.

“Can I help you?” Derek blurts out.

The words make Stiles halt, but when he looks back anew his smile is close to beaming. 

“You know I never say no to you washing my back.”

In the bright light of the bathroom, last night seems further away. Derek offers to draw a bath but Stiles opts for a shower, as usual, so Derek turns it on and guides Stiles in with a hand on his elbow.

“Are _you_ alright?” Stiles asks.

Derek hesitates a moment before he nods, picking up the washcloth and starting to wash Stiles gently. Smoothing the cloth over bruises and sore muscles. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, placing a hand on Derek’s chest. “What’s up? You’re freaking me out.”

“I just… I still feel a bit…”

“Over protective and really possessive? Yeah. I can tell,” Stiles says. “You know, there’s a reason this washing thing is such a ritual between alpha-omega couples during heat.”  
Derek’s hand freezes where he is stroking the cloth against a slim shoulder, and he pulls away, can’t meet Stiles’ eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles says, right there in Derek’s space. He wraps both arms around Derek’s neck, presses them tightly together. Only a moment passes before Derek’s resistance fades away and he hugs back, hard. 

“Derek,” Stiles sighs softly, “I know you’re a possessive dick.”

Derek tenses again, there is really no denying that, and Stiles chuckles.

“You didn’t honestly think you were hiding that, right? Come on! Aren’t I the smartest person you’ve ever met?” The words are laced with humor, but Derek answers in seriousness;

“You are.”

“And you are in no way partial,” Stiles says, but when he pulls back so they can look at each other, his eyes has lit up at the compliment. 

“Maybe a little,” Derek says. “When you’re muttering about dragon’s breath, I wonder if you got dropped as a kid.”

“That’s because you never play Skyrim!” Stiles says, and tugs roughly at Derek’s hair. “You would get it if you did. Scott gets it!”

At the mention of another alpha, Derek growls. Scott is mated, he reminds himself, very happily mated and has never looked at Stiles that way.

“Oh man,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “I’m so happy you’re usually more rational than this.”

“Me too,” Derek says.

Stiles smiles brilliantly and kisses Derek, once, twice, before pulling back completely. He takes the soap and puts it in Derek’s hand with a meaningful glance.

“Keep washing,” Stiles says, now turning and presenting the long line of his back. “I’m just saying that I know you feel possessive of me sometimes. Often. I’m just happy you don’t growl at everything in sight. Just as I’m sure you’re happy I don’t bare my neck to every alpha we meet.”

“Do you feel an urge too?” Derek asks, curious now.

“No, no, not all of them. Some. Like Lydia. I think she could get any _alpha_ to show their throat.”

Derek can’t disagree with that. Lydia’s fierceness reminds of his mother’s; she’d been like that and Derek rarely had an issue submitting to her. Dad sometimes called her a ‘true alpha’ with a fond smile; referring to her strength and kindness, probably her protectiveness too. As the only omega in the family, Derek and Laura being alphas and their other siblings betas, Derek still remembers him being just as protective as his mother – if a lot less possessive. Stiles is a bit like that too, even if he comes with a lot more jokes. 

“I think it’s because I’m a werewolf too,” Derek admits. He finishes washing Stiles, who grabs the second washcloth and soaps it.

“Yeah, I’ve thought of that too,” Stiles says, as he starts stroking the cloth across Derek’s shoulders. “Did –“

“Of course you have.” Derek rolls his eyes.

“Hey! I can’t help if my brain runs faster than I can keep up!” He gives Derek a pointed look. “Anyway, as I was saying, have you never seen your mom go into rut?” 

Derek had to ponder that for a moment before he answered, “She gave me and Laura a really embarrassing talk when I was about thirteen,” thinking about him and his sister looking anywhere but at Mom, blushing, “Mostly about the mechanics and how babies are made, and to be careful because alphas become aggressive and possessive if they went into rut.” He furrows his brow; realizing that his mother had probably meant aggressive if other people came around the alpha’s omega. “I do remember my parents going away a few times a year, Uncle Peter and his wife took us kids camping sometimes. I guess it depended on whether we had school or not. Dad started smelling weird around those times too; really sweet, and Mom wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“Awkward.” 

Stiles dad is an alpha, but his mother had been a beta. 

“When I figured it out, yes.”

“And despite this conversation, you manage to get hard.” Stiles tugs at Derek’s dick, now fully erect, and then touches where the knot will form.

“You smell good,” Derek looks down, “And I see you managed it too.”

Stiles laughs, “Well, yeah. You smell kinda good too, you know.”

“Kinda?” Derek growls, just to make Stiles laugh again. 

“Sorry. Amazingly, fantastically, wonderfully, beautifully, fab-“ 

Derek shoves at him and steps out of the shower, drying himself swiftly, and still managing to catch Stiles when he stumbles out.

“I’m thinking food first though,” Stiles says. “Then I’m all for smelling you. Maybe on the sofa, this time? Then I can watch TV while you moan in my ear.”

“I don’t do that.” 

“Moan in my ear? Yes, you do, buddy. During your whole knotting thing. It’s pretty great, actually.” 

“Let’s just eat.” 

“Is that a no to knotting on the sofa?” 

It isn’t. They do exactly that, after breakfast. And Derek does moan in Stiles ear, who mewls when Derek rubs against his oversensitive prostate. And it’s pretty great.

“So you’ll book first week of November into your calendar too, right?” Stiles says, afterwards.

Derek does, of course.

 

****

****

The End


End file.
